


Yet One More Relatable Crowley Fantasy

by AZFell (AnnetheCatDetective)



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ancient History, Hair Braiding, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 16:56:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18996733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AZFell
Summary: The people have spoken and what the people want is to imagine being loved by Crowley, and who am I to argue? This time it's mostly about how lovely he is with long hair.





	Yet One More Relatable Crowley Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> I am writing more of these as well, and am saving up by-request scenarios.

It’s night when Crowley comes to you. You recognize him at once, even in darkness, and when he lowers the diaphanous shawl, the breeze kicks at his curls.

 

They had been neat, glossy ringlets once, in Eden. Now his hair seems thicker and wilder, messy with snarls.

 

Of course, you can’t have known him since Eden, or known what his hair was like, with no sort of visual record, and it’s been a couple hundred years, but the point I’m making is, his hair is still beautiful, but it is a mess.

 

The two of you have much you might talk about, and yet he is silent, as he comes to kneel close beside you, by your fire. You’d been struggling to read by the light of it, but at the sight of him approaching, you’d set aside your clay tablet, all of your focus on him. He’d come to you, a sash highlighting his narrow waist, shawl around him, and the black fabrics against the dark of night only serve to make him look pale by the moonlight, but here beside the fire, he takes on a warmer glow.

 

“You look… beautiful, tonight.” You say, your face heating, and not from the fire. You don’t know quite how to compliment him, what he might prefer to hear, but… had he not dressed to be beautiful?

 

Besides, you know him to be a vain beast, surely he will soak up the compliment happily enough.

 

“I’m a mess.” He says, but he preens also, and smooths his clothing with a careful hand. “Do you like it? It’s not– too…?”

 

“Oh, no.” You’re quick to say, and your fingers steal up, meaning to touch his hair. At the last moment, nerves take you, and you finger his shawl instead. “It’s all very fine.”

 

“Its… I thought to go down with you tomorrow, and– I thought I might look nice for you. Well, not–” He turns away. “I can’t do a thing with my hair, though.”

 

You could hardly ask for a more perfect opening.

 

“May I?” You dare a touch to his curls this time, and even messy, they are as soft beneath your fingertips as you ever did dream.

 

 ~~You summon up a comb from the aeth~~ He hands you a comb, and nods. You hum softly and begin the work of untangling his titian tresses, and he relaxes as you work. You weave a braid into his hair as you go. When you’ve done, he rises, and slips free of his clothing, save a modest undergarment covering his loins, and he kneels before you once more, his wings unfolding. To human eyes, they are dark as night.

 

Which is how you see them also. With your human eyes.

 

They’re beautiful just the same, of course, you find them breathtakingly so.

 

“May I?” You ask again, a whisper this time.

 

“Please.” He whispers back.

 

You could hardly describe the intimacy of it to another soul, there is nothing to equal the experience. When you touch him here, and feel the flutter of his wings, unused to loving touch, it is as if a door has opened to you, and you have come upon a new world, and that world is him. And as you gently preen him, you have opened a door as well, and allowed him into you. You smooth over his lovely soft feathers ~~and imagine him doing the same for y~~

 

When you finish, he turns to you, golden eyes burning in the firelight, burning into yours.

 

~~“Az oh dear no Ang no no something else, that’s personal~~

 

“Love, will you enter into me? Or will I enter into you?” He asks, taking your hand.

 

You nod, and undress before him, and lie back. He removes that final garment which would separate you, and then he is above you, and then he is one with you. His wings shield you from the night unfeeling, his wings tent around you and hold you, precious. He loves you with his whole being, and you feel whole. He makes you complete.

 

“Walk with me.” You gasp, and cup his dear face between your hands.

 

“Tomorrow?”

 

“For all my days.”

 

He kisses you, and greater pleasure floods your being. He whispers yes, and no higher ecstasy could take you than this.

 

Shortly before dawn, he slinks away from your fire, and you watch him go with such a weight of sorrow upon you– yet he returns to you, and finds you walking down the road, for you had things to do this day which no sorrow could keep you from.

 

“Wait…” He takes your hand, and you stop, you can do nothing else.

 

Crowley slides a ring onto your finger, and takes your arm, his smile sheepish.

 

Everything which had been dark in you is bright again.


End file.
